Hi, I 'm Katie, and this is written at the limited request of my Mom 's very good ally Frank.

Here is the task he set us for the weekend -- I want both of you to account in detail your wildest,
almost loose fantasy. What makes you really wet ? So wet, that only a slight contact takes you over the
orgasmic verge. This will be a underground shared among the three of us, so do n't be bashful. talk over it, but in
a competitive way, because I want both of you to know intimately that much about one another. If you
already have this cognition, then, I want you both to be creative and recite me a new and different
illusion -- something that may have been subliminal -- that you have not dared think of
before ... something so prohibited you were afraid to entertain it as a idea. Remember, I find nothing
repulsive, since I firmly believe the nous is our most spiritualist and pleasurable erogenous zone.


Since I am the untested, Mom let me distinguish you my limited illusion first, in my own words.

Something that really turns me on, and I mean seriously, is to be a fashion model in one of those new
season events where all the latest conception are shown for the world-class sentence to a very select audience, with
the fashion press coverage on it. All of the clothes are totally impractical, except for wearing to special
parties by the celebrities who want to realise some kind of a wild statement, or just for their shock value.
I'm with half a twelve former modelling on a catwalk, but they are all skinny beanpoles with their bones
sticking out, you know the form the sensitive manipulation, whereas I'm a beautifully proportioned Pres Young daughter. Every
outfit we've demonstrated so far has been either nearly see through, fitted very loosely so the audience
could see beneath the garment, or else so tight as to disclose even my goose gibbousness. When I walk out for
my quarter parade along the runway there is a change in the hearing somehow, though it's difficult to
see with the floodlights, but I can hear them passing comments about my breast as they jiggle beneath my
blouse.


Then as I turn at the end of the runway the schism skirt flows out backward to let on my panties,
which I realize have no crotch in them, so the audience can now see my bare cunny. Not only can they
see my bare flesh, but it is totally bare, freshly shaved to a hairless split looker when I first arrived in the
changing room. You see this is my first modeling job for this couturier, who is utterly camp, and when he
saw me getting unappareled before the world-class modification, he insisted that my Dubyuh would ruin the look of his
wonderful creations, and should therefore be removed. Since it is required for this job, and on function I
shave it myself anyway, I agreed to shave it, intending to go into the restroom to perform this rather
intimate task. To my surprise, he snapped his digit, and three of the vernal male chest of drawers grabbed me,
spread me across a workbench and proceed to trim my cunny with everyone watching. When I was
completely smooth they poured baby oil onto my gentle mound, massaging it into my fragile skin, with
legion face trips along my scratch as well. When they had finished, I was let up, and no-one took any
notice, as if this had been all part of the routine chaos of backstage, and I was just another lilliputian setback
to be trade with as quickly as potential. I must admit that my smooth flesh felt deliciously aphrodisiacal, every
pinch of each new getup adding to my stimulation, especially as I was fitted with a new and unlike
pair of panties each time. Somehow, showing my bald prick didn't seem too important anymore, and I
twirled several more times on the way back, each round of applause from my audience sending tingle
through my Cy Young body.


When I reached wing, I was seriously turned on, and could feel my cunny lips sliding wetly against
each other. I stood on my"Spot"while the actor's assistant removed every stitch of my clothes, allowing them
to affect my limbs about as they saw fit, but now the slightest tactile sensation to my bare skin was electrifying.
The head teacher vanity decided that I needed a whisker and makeup change for the next outfit, and still bare, I
was quickly lead over to the dressing table, naturally enough by the cleaning woman gripping my erect mammilla to
take out me along behind her. There were respective others being re-done, and as one of them rose up I noticed
that the can had a dildo protruding from it, so when I was led over to the very Saame positioning I objected
to sitting on it. I was told not to be so silly, all of the models had to be held in position like this, and a
pair of hired man took my rosehip, and pushed me down into a sitting position. Just a nimble, skilled wind of my
shank positioned the shaft against my already wet maw, and I slid down like butter. The firm pink rubber
member was larger than my own, and it filled me painfully, but through my excitement I hardly noticed any
of the discomfort. My hair was pinned up while my nerve were blushed, my lipstick was applied quickly
and expertly to my relaxed mouth, but then also to my erect tit, leaving them lustrous red. Quickly I
was lifted from my seat, the dildo slurping noisily as it was dragged from my fuddled love tunnel, pulling at
the soft walls, but I had no time to savor the feelings as another dress was fitted to me.


I was stood by the curtain with the stage theater director psyching me up to be beautiful, to be sexy, swank my
trunk, show off my dress, to take a shit them want my body. With a sharp taking into custody on my cigaret, I was handed out onto the
catwalk, strutting like I owned the blank space, my cunny buzzing with joy, and now I could see that the
audience loved me. The women had their annulus drawn up, hands between their thigh, or inside their
bodice, squeezing firm boob, and I extended my shoulder so they could see my pert red nipples under
my dress. Further down along the walkway two men had removed their peter from the confines of their
elegant apparel trousers, and were openly stroking Brobdingnagian erections as they studied my nubile figure.
Turning at the end of the catwalk, my senses heightened by Passion, I realized that the raised post we all
used to pivot on was extremely phallic, though not an factual penis, the conformation was there. The head was
small and point, but it widened dramatically near by the alkali, and I lingered with my paw caressing it
till the next girl was almost upon me, before I retreated on the takings leg.


wing I was stripped again, and taken to the bandaging table for make-up, but had to expect for a seat.
Meanwhile, my dresser slipped her mitt between my leg, sliding a stiff finger along my dent, and even
deep into my cunt. She shook her head, telling me I was too wet, and would stain the apparel, then
called over one of the trainees, a Lester Willis Young girl about 16 geezerhood old. Taking no notice of what happened, as I
watched the question model seating herself on the designer's lap, his huge bastard stretching her lilliputian bare
puss, it was a few moments before I realized what the trainee was doing. I had expected a tissue, or a
warm washcloth would be used to clean up my dripping vulva, and vaguely felt the warmth, but a
sudden burst of passion to my clitoris made me look down to see her knelt cleaning my juices with her
tongue. Her hands gripped my butt as I jerked against her face, and she pulled my impudence apart to appropriate
my dresser to rub a lubricated digit across my asshole, then push it right inside, twisting the fingerbreadth to
spread lubrication right round the internal lining. When a bottom became vacant at the dressing tabular array I was
hurried forward, again by pulling at my solid teats, but when I was seated this time, the phallus was
embedded in my hindquarters, painfully stretching my sphincter money box I thought I would split wide open.


By the end of the night I was getting dizzy with all the sexual excitement, in malice of the fact that
I hadn't yet climaxed, always being taken off somewhere else as the passionateness reached almost to a peak.
Both the designer and the point manager were thrilled with my execution, and the audience were as well,
they kept looking at all the Holy Order being placed on a electronic computer screen door, saying that I could win the
competition if I kept on being sexy. While I had no idea what they were talking about, being sexy was
something I could do, and went at it with even more than exuberance. The final parade had all the mannikin
dressed in the flimsiest of gowns, and as we gathered at the end of the catwalk, the announcer told
everyone that the winner of almost popular mannequin for tonight's show was Katie. Everyone cheered as the
designer took my hand and brought me forward for a bow, making me twirl so my dame few out to
queer my bare cunny, as panties hadn't been allowed for any of us this time. Stood at the front, on
full phase of the moon exhibit, I was shown proudly to my devotee, being turned back and forth, bowing and curtsying, then
the designer came over and gave me a osculation, not on the cheek, but fully on my lips. A passionate embracement
that included his manus running over my bottom. Then the noblewoman announcer came on degree, and gave me
an even more fervid embrace, with her clapper going in my mouth, and her hand fondling my lightly
clad titties. I was almost cumming from all this stimulant, and hardly noticed the bunch calling out for
the celestial pole to be given me.


I assumed this was the trophy for being in force model, and was surprised when the head model took my ankle,
raising my foot up sideways in a ballet stock split that must let been displaying my bare cunny to everyone.
With the whole audience natural state about me, cheering and shouting, I began to mark as I was moved slightly
sideways till my spread wooden leg were over the pin Charles William Post at the end of the catwalk. The liquid metallic rod
was slipped between my lips, four column inch of the specialize shaft entering my dripping cunt as I was helplessly
impaled on the stage. My skirt was pulled aside and pinned up so as not to hide the centre of my Edward Young
girl's cunny, stretched by even the top part of this stake that I'd been turning on so innocently all
even. Slowly I was turned to face unlike sections of the hearing, the shaft twisting against my
delicate wall, then the question exemplar leaned forward and told me to curtsey. I dipped slightly, forcing the
metallic element celestial pole deeper into my minor tender jam, then a hand reached over into my slit to rub my throbbing
clit to greater elevation of passion.


I could feel my orgasm edifice after being so long denied through the evening, each painful act and
curtsy pushing me nearer to the threshold of discharge. Gradually I felt my peg weaken, the knees trembling as
new wafture of titillating pleasure flashed through my clit, and I knew they would soon give way and drop me on the
floor. Helpless to balk, I was now turning and bobbing to everyone who wanted to see, till at last I could
stand no more input. Timed to perfection, my arm was grasped at each side, raised up in a Wave of
appreciation, then swept down to a an extremely cryptical curtsy, just as my branch finally gave way. A howler
of intense passion left my pharynx as a monolithic climax swept right through every fiber of my unseasoned physical structure,
drowning out the nuisance as I dropped down along the widening gibe that was tearing out my precious
virginity. Only the most slender of shafts had ever penetrated that to the highest degree sacred transition, protecting the
barrier of my hymen that would be a precious giving to my special lover. Now I was being sacrificed on the
alter of fame and fashion, and I had no other care but my own fulfillment as I tried to lift my free weight so
that I could expend once more onto that cruel stake. Each trench driving force renewed fresh waves of coming that
set my hips shaking, driving the heartless metal dildo deeper into my aching wet cunny.


fountainhead Frank, I hope you enjoy reading my secret fantasy, it's been extra to me during the last few years,
and after talking with Mom over the weekend I'm now privileged to share this with the both of you

squeeze and buss
Katie

*********************************************

This is Mom 's tale of her favorite fantasy.


Well, here we go with my account, Frank, something that I have never allowed to fully develop, but
elements of it do surface now and again, always with a most dramatic essence on me.

We are all at my Dad's household in High Bridge for some vacation, such as Thanksgiving I think, and we're all
in the sofa chatting. There are all four of us there, Dad and my step-brother Robert, my daughter Katie,
and myself, when somehow the conversation gets steered round to sexual activeness. This had always been a very
tabu national at home, but in my illusion it all seems quite lifelike, although I still have firm retentivity
of the way everyone used to respond when I was a little girl, and I'm desperately trying to submit them in my
idea. When Dad asks how my sex life history is getting on now, I hear myself explain that I masturbate quite a
lot, and download porn from the net when I need it. Dad smiles, nodding his heading as he says how
glad he is that I'm happy, and I squeeze his manus in gratitude, but inside the rear of my mind is a
nagging apprehensiveness of something I can't quite grasp. Robert turns to ask the Lapp matter of Katie, and she
enthusiastically tells everyone about the new dildo she bought last calendar week, including how she tried it out
in the store, much to everyone's delectation. I too praise my daughter's heart-to-heart honesty, and I feel my pussy
getting wet as she tells her Uncle Robert about sitting on the dildo in her sleeping room when she got home
with it. Both my Dad and Robert have big bulges in their pant, which I notice they are stroking openly,
as they reminisce about how I always used to dally with myself when I was a young girl.


When Dad asks to take a feeling how often I've grown over the class, I happily begin to undress, slowly
unbuttoning my blouse, then leaving it fully open to exhibit my bra covered white meat while I remove my short
annulus. As I strip down for my family, I hear Robert edict his niece to look at off her clothes as well, so
that they can compare the raw bodies of their two front-runner lady. When we are both undressed to our
undies, we are stood side by side, still half naked in movement of my Dad and comrade, and strangely enough,
everything is OK, as if it were the most instinctive thing in the humanity. While all my strangle anxiety are
still there, my most prominent intuitive feeling is one of rising intimate heat, and I can find my kitty juice
flooding into my lace pantie. On command we both step forward, and Dad begins to feel my breast through
my bra, caressing them gently, while I can see Robert doing the Lapplander to Katie, and both of them are
showering us with compliment about how beautiful and sexy we are.


Robert suggests we liken our tit, and both brassiere are removed so that our naked tit flesh can be
examined thoroughly, Katie panting just as hard as I am when her nipples are pulled gently. The men want
to check our seat, and we are now turned by our hips to front away from them, our step-in pulled down,
and the rear cheeks meticulously fondled. Next we are flex over so that the key groove parts widely
to expose two little rosebuds which are gently lubricated, then penetrated by a solid male finger.
Katie reaches over to defy my hired hand, looking at me with lust in her centre to cope with my own raging passionateness,
then we moan in unison as our dickhead stretch to fill a finger's breadth full depth.


After a short while we are resist facing the men again, still with our panties below our butts, the battlefront
bound just against the blood of our pubic mound, but not for long as Dad and Robert carefully lower each
cincture to slowly expose a pair of polish shaven cunt, turning the panties inside out so that they
reveal gussets covered in thick young lady juice.


"Still a wet lilliputian adulteress, my Darling,"Dad says to me with a smiling, and turning to Katie he continues,"Your
Mom always had wet panties, smasher, it was one of the thing I loved about her. Even when she was
freshly changed into clean underwear, you only had to trip up her nipples, and straight away she would
flood her panties."


Knowing that my Dad approved of my wet puss was a grand thing to hear, and made me prickle
deep inside my tummy. Robert then pointed out to Dad that his granddaughter also had a dripping wet
cunny, just like her Mom, and added how gracious it was that both cleaning lady were such hot picayune foxes. Pulling
down our panties altogether, Dad and Robert now had us totally defenseless, and we were made to pose for
them in the most titillating elbow room, spreading our second joint wide apart, offering up our knocker for them to nurse
our erect teat, and being passed from one to the other for review. Finally we were told to kneel
before them, then asked if we would like to salvage the hard-on we had caused, to which we both said
yes, finally being allowed to unzip their knickers, pull them down, and stare upon two large throbbing cocksucker
just waiting to be caressed. Katie's middle were all-encompassing open as she studied her Uncle Henry Martyn Robert's stopcock, and she
reached out to wrap her mitt bout it, stroking it slowly, while I reached out to spiel with my Dad's long
punishing prick.

I had wondered what this would be like for so long, ever since those rare affair when I saw him in the
bathroom, and now I was justify to enjoy giving him the joy he deserved for taking maintenance of me for so many
years. After stroking him for a while, I leaned forward, watching him smiling at me as my backtalk slid over the
knob of his manly light beam, playing my tongue across it before sliding its length trench into my back talk. Glancing
sideways, I saw Katie watching me suck my Dad while she played with my brother, then she too slipped her
mouth over her Uncle's cock, forcing her brim wide enough apart to take him inside as her Mom was doing.
It felt wondrous to be together as a family, sharing sex and get laid with each other without any regrets or
recriminations, knowing that we had so a great deal enjoyment that we could contribute to these two wonderful men.


After twenty minutes of oral attention I could see both of them lead off to plagiarise their hips, and feel my Dad's
prick pulse in my back talk, so I kept my tongue working steadily along his dig, holding back at times to
make him finale. When Henry M. Robert began to lunge into Katie's mouth, I increased my press, bringing Dad up
to his orgasm just a few seconds behind Robert, feeling the first jets of thick spunk photoflood in my mouth,
holding it as I heard Katie swallow. Both my Dad and Robert then pushed our point backward, off their
pulsing peter as the rest of their climax was sprayed across both of our faces in sticky white jets.


We knelt there covered in cum, strands dripping from our chin onto our bare breast as Dad told me to open
my mouth. Showing him that I still held his juice inside me, he told me to share it with Katie, so I leaned
over to give her a sticky kiss, passing my Dad's mettle into my own daughter's back talk, then taking it back as
she pushed her Granddad's cum into her own Mom's rima oris. When we'd swapped juices a few times, Dad had us
both open our lip while he and Henry M. Robert looked at the strands of spermatozoan across our spit, and the puddle
of thick fluid behind our tooth, finally ordering his two miss to swallow it all down into our tummies.


This is the ultimate acceptance of my sexual campaign, that I am loved enough to share this most internal,
and forbidden of erotic acts with my skinny sept. As Dad reaches out to my bare pussy, slipping his
fingers into my slit, his nail scraping the tip of my upright clitoris, I explode in orgasm, staying on my
knees in front of him while spasms of violent pleasure ripple through my whole body.



With gratitude to my very special protagonist
Love Shelly